The flesh is weak...
I killed Jules. I didn't know I was doing it; it was some kind of other me, but still — I did it. Apparently, that's the power that comes with being Prince. I'd give anything to get rid of it. I'd give anything to be a normal guy with a dog and a girlfriend who's still alive.
Instead, I have a choice. I either master this power, this magic, or it masters me. Not much of a choice, right? Worse: choosing between a coven of half-cracked witches and an evil absentee father.
Who can I trust when I can't even trust myself?